


Ordinary People

by Medie



Category: Numb3rs
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-13
Updated: 2011-01-13
Packaged: 2017-10-14 17:40:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/151784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Medie/pseuds/Medie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They've never really done normal before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ordinary People

**Author's Note:**

  * For [swingandswirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/swingandswirl/gifts).



"Special Agent Granger."

David stops before Colby does, nervous energy taking her a few steps farther, and he's grinning when she looks at him. Annoyed, she makes a face, scrunching her nose, and he actually snickers.

Someone's catching hell later. She clears her throat and narrows her eyes. She's an intimidating woman, Colby knows that. The Army and CID taught her how to use her height and her presence to scare the living fuck out of people. She's a goddamn FBI agent - among other things - and she knows how to make that work for her. Or, at least, with people who aren't David.

Or Ian Edgerton, but he's a whole other ballgame anyway. Always was, or so she's 'heard'.

Breathing out, she looks at David. "Catch up with you later?"

His eyes light with amusement. "Yeah, uh, I think I'll get something to eat and check in with Don."

There isn't a report. Oh, she's going to catch hell later. They're still feeling each other out, she's never been great with partners, but there's a little thump of relief that comes with the way he jostles her arm as he goes by. She winces, but there's no real dread behind it.

Edgerton waits until David's in the car and on the street before he says, "Bastard son of Clint Eastwood and Yoda?"

Colby looks over her shoulder, a grin curving her lips. "Heard that one, did you?"

Edgerton's lips flash in a suggestion of a smile. "Yeah, I heard it. Think I'm a little traumatized by it, actually." His eyes sweep over her, assessing, and she straightens under the scrutiny. "Something tells me that I just might make it though."

"Imagine my relief," she drawls, letting her bag slip to the ground. "You look good."

"You look better."

His voice, low and familiar, sends a shiver running through her. She turns to face him full on and sees what David must have. God, they are never going to pull this off if they're going to be this obvious about it. "I'm never going to live this down," she says, watching him close the distance between them. "You realize that, right?"

Ian smirks and bends to pick up her bag. "He'll never breathe a word."

"No?"

"No," he echoes. "Ignoring the part where you're his partner and you don't fuck over your partner; you know a hundred and fifty ways to kill him with a paperclip and I'm a sniper. It's all about risk assessment, Granger. David's a smart man and smart men don't take stupid risks."

She laughs. "It's a hundred and fifty one, actually."

Ian's eyebrows rise. "Oh?"

"You should meet Megan," Colby says, grinning.

"Profiler, right?"

"In theory," she says, taking hold of her bag. "Megan kind of bucks the stereotype. She knows things." First time in a long time anyone's gotten the drop on her. Colby's been an Army girl since she could walk and hand to hand's as second nature as breathing. Megan still had her flat on her back, pinned, in under a minute.

That's not something Colby's forgetting anytime soon.

Ian's fingers tighten around the bag's strap, pulling her just a little off balance. Enough that she's in his space, close enough to feel the heat and dust of him, and finding it hard to concentrate. It brings back memories. A blink of her lashes and she's pressed against a cave wall in Afghanistan, one leg over his shoulder and his head between her thighs, trying to hold back a scream. Another blink and she's standing in front of him again, wet and ready.

"So do you," he says, his voice rough with the same memories.

It's a blur from there to Ian's motel room. She gets the barest of glimpses of the spartan space before she's slamming back against the door. Her bag hits the floor at their feet with a thump as Ian presses tight against her.

She laughs, breathless, and grabs hold of his shirt. "That's going to leave a mark."

He kisses her, fierce and rough, then pulls away long enough to let her pull the shirt over his head. "I'll kiss it better later."

"Promise?" she asks, throwing the shirt.

He holds up his hand. "Scouts honour."

"There's a mental image I didn't need," she mutters.

He laughs. "What, me as a boy scout?"

She nods, taking a second in the fading afternoon light to look at him. It's been a few years and there are a few new scars among the old. One peeks out over the waistband of his pants, raised and white against the tanned flesh. She feels the echoed ache of it in her own hip.

She reaches for it, but his hand stops hers. "Tell me later?" she asks, watching as he raises her hand to his mouth. The feel of his lips ghosting over her palm has her shuddering, wet, and it's been too damn long.

"Maybe," he says, letting her hand fall away.

This time, her shirt comes off, her bra with it, and she's the one being examined.

"Some day," Ian presses a kiss against her shoulder, "We're going to do this the right way."

She squirms and pushes her fingers into his hair. "Which would be?"

"Hours and hours on top of hours and hours," he murmurs, slicking a kiss over her collarbone. "I need time to explore."

Colby closes her eyes. She can _see_ the picture he's painting. Feel it in the ache between her thighs. It's never been something she'd thought they'd have. Never had anything more than a few stolen minutes here and there. The idea of hours, days, seems more a dream than a possibility.

She hooks a leg over his hip, trapping him, and he drops his head against her breast. His fingers land on her sides, tapping out a staccato pattern that makes her squirm.

"There's this thing," he says, his breath hot on her skin.

Colby chokes out a laugh, grinding into him. "Yeah, I noticed."

"Not that, smart-ass," he says, pulling back. "Some people like to call it foreplay. I think I'd like to give it a shot." She's never been good with relationships, in the Army or before, and this is the kind of thing that's still an unknown factor with her.

She wonders what Charlie's math would make of this.

"Foreplay," she says, licking her lips.

"Possibly also dinner," he suggests, venturing into territory that - for them - is downright daring. "Or breakfast."

She grins. "Trying to find my inner good girl?" She was one once. Years ago. Before the Army, Afghanistan, and a sharp-eyed sniper with dangerous fingers.

"Maybe," he teases, grinning back. "Maybe I'm just trying to find mine."

With a laugh, Colby pushes him toward the bed. His belt comes away in her hand, freed in a quick motion that has his eyebrows raising with respect. Oh yeah, she's got skills. "Hmm, Agent Edgerton, would you possibly be trying to ask me out?"

"I think, maybe," Ian's eyes close when her fingers find his cock, "I might be."

Colby starts to slide downward. "Then I think I might say yes."


End file.
